The Improperly Pregnant Princess. Jacqueline Diamond
brunch tomorrow,” CeCe said. “Forget the ad campaign.”
“You seemed pretty keen on it yesterday.” His expression shifted into confusion, or maybe that was the effect of the pixels. They sometimes rearranged themselves jerkily, giving the impression that she was watching stop-action animation instead of a real person.
Except that Shane was very, very real. His voice had a fierce vibrancy even through the computer speakers, and CeCe got the shivery sense that he was right here in the room with her.
Close enough to touch, yet out of reach. Just like in life.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She couldn’t tell him about her grandfather’s visit, so she explained, “We’re having some bad weather at sea. What’s this call about, Shane?”
“Us,” he said.
Her heart nearly stopped. Surely she’d misheard him. “I beg your pardon?”
“When your mother came in, we were on the verge of talking about what happened that night at my apartment,” he said. “It’s time to finish the conversation.”
Not now! CeCe thought. Not with her mother’s silent nagging pulling at her mind, and worry about the storm making her feel guilty about taking even a moment for herself. “Forget that night. It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter?” Shane repeated. “Does that mean I can expect you to drop by my place again, say, tonight?”
CeCe stared at him, trying to make sense of his comment. “What are you talking about?”
“You say that what happened doesn’t matter. So it won’t matter if we get together again, will it?” he replied, his eyes daring her to argue. Or maybe that was once again, the effect of digital imperfections. “We’re both consenting adults and whether you want to admit it or not, we enjoyed ourselves.”
“Life isn’t about having fun,” CeCe snapped, although it was difficult not to be amused by Shane’s outrageous remarks. Something about the man appealed to her even when he infuriated her.
“Lighten up,” he said. “Let me bring out the best in you. Or the worst. Whatever. Shall we say, seven o’clock, my place?”
“I have plans,” she said.
“So do I,” he admitted. “I didn’t figure you’d agree.”
“You louse!” CeCe couldn’t help laughing. “You have a lot of nerve!”
“So are we past it?” he asked.
“Past what?”
“That circling-each-other-and-snarling business,” Shane said. “What happened, happened. We’re both consenting adults and we both enjoyed it. No harm done.”
“Well…” CeCe swallowed. It seemed awfully abrupt to break the news about her pregnancy over the Internet. Besides, the connection might not be secure.
Then there was the matter of her grandfather’s visit. She couldn’t tell Shane yet, even if she wanted to.
A tap at her office door was followed by Linzy’s entrance. “Miss Carradigne? Did you see the latest weather bulletin?”
“No. What’s it say?” CeCe reached instinctively for her mouse.
“Don’t you dare minimize me!” Shane said.
Linzy frowned. “Is there someone on the speakerphone?”
“I’m videoconferencing with Mr. O’Connell,” CeCe said. “What’s the news?”
“The storm’s veered. The worst of it is expected to miss the shipping lanes,” said her secretary.
“Thank heaven.” CeCe checked her watch. “Oh, my goodness.” At last report, her grandfather was expected to land right about now. Even if she hurried, she’d be late to greet him. “I’ve got to go.”
Linzy withdrew discreetly. “What’s so important?” Shane asked.
“Family business,” CeCe said.
“So when it comes to our little escapade, it’s forgive, if not forget?” he pressed.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and clicked off.
She didn’t want to keep the king of Korosol waiting any longer than she had to. Especially not for the impudent Shane O’Connell.
THE GRAND ROOM LIVED UP to its name, the king saw as he entered. Large enough to serve as a ballroom, it soared a full two stories. Fabric wall paneling in shades of beige and light blue set off the antique furnishings, and the windows opened onto a covered lanai.
Two young women sprang to their feet as Easton entered and dipped in slightly shaky curtseys. They were lovely women, both tall and blond.
Amelia, who wore a tailored dress, gave him a conciliatory smile. “I’m sure CeCe will be here any minute.”
Lucia, a shade taller and slimmer, wore a swirly, bohemian dress and large, bright earrings. She was, the king recalled from one of Charlotte’s letters, a jewelry designer, so she’d probably made them herself. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she murmured. “I mean, to see you again.”
She’d been six, and her sister seven, the last time he met them. It seemed like another lifetime.
“Come give your grandfather a big hug, both of you,” Easton said.
They embraced him shyly. Close up, they smelled of springtime.
“They’re beautiful girls,” he told Charlotte. “You’ve done well.”
“I must apologize again for Cecelia,” she said. “She has a computer in her suite upstairs. I told her she ought to keep track from here until…”
Across the hall, the elevator doors opened and Easton heard high heels click across the marble floor. Such an impatient sound, and an oddly familiar one.
His chest tightened. His wife’s steps used to sound exactly like that when she was in a hurry.
“With all those weather satellites, you’d think we could get some accurate information sooner about…” A tall, loose-limbed young woman, hair straggling across her face, stumbled to a halt in the doorway. “Oh, he’s here! I mean, you’re here. Welcome to New York, Your Majesty.”
As she dipped in a curtsey, he distinctly heard her knees crack. Then she straightened and King Easton forgot everything as he got a good look at her face.
It was his Cassandra, come back to life in her eldest granddaughter.
CECE FIGURED SHE’D BLOWN IT this time. Everyone was staring at her, especially her grandfather.
He was tall and erect, although thinner than she’d expected, and looked in his early sixties rather than his late seventies. His gray hair might be thinning, but there was nothing faded about his green gaze.
She hoped he wasn’t going to scold her. The chauffeur had set a crosstown speed record getting her here, which had done nothing to ease her churning stomach.
And she wished she hadn’t been quite so abrupt in ending the call with Shane. When he wasn’t scowling and trying to drive a hard bargain, the man could be downright charming. Dangerously so, as she’d learned.
“Please accept my apology for the delay,” CeCe said. “I hope my mother told you about the storm.”
“She did indeed.” Never taking his eyes off her, King Easton crossed the room and caught CeCe’s hands in his strong ones. “Your devotion to duty does you credit.” He spoke with a charming French accent.
Charlotte, who had opened her mouth to intervene in what she obviously expected to be a difficult moment, clamped it shut again. Amelia looked relieved, and Lucia amused.
Nothing